


Love in the Time of War

by onceuponanevilangel



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Internalized Homophobia, Period-Typical Homophobia, ish but i feel like i should tag for it anyway
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-24
Updated: 2016-04-24
Packaged: 2018-06-04 07:51:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6648736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onceuponanevilangel/pseuds/onceuponanevilangel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In 1938, a girl with a black eye, a split lip, and an English accent raced into Angie's life, looking for a place to hide. Little did Angie know that one person could change her world so completely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love in the Time of War

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has been the works for literal months now and I'm just so glad I can finally post it! This will be a three-shot and I'm hoping to wrap it up pretty quickly, but we'll see how my schedule works out. Thank you to AHappyPup (swimmingnewsie on tumblr) for beta-ing this for me and making sure that I fact checked myself. Hope you all enjoy and reviews are always appreciated!

1938

It was the middle of July and New York City was smack in the middle of the biggest heat wave Angie could remember. She grabbed a newspaper off the counter and folded it in half to make it a little thicker and a little more effective as a makeshift fan. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing.

She’d really have to remember to talk to her father about getting an air conditioner. Sure they were expensive, but it would probably be more cost effective in the long run. People weren’t exactly lining up for pizzelles or cannoli or really anything that was filled with cream or covered in sugar that would just melt in the heat.

Angie kept fanning herself absently with the newspaper and leaned against the counter.

There were fat black flies buzzing around the display case, landing, tapping on the glass like they could reach the pastries through it, and then taking off again.

A group of boys about Angie’s age or maybe a little younger sprinted by the front window, brandishing broken bricks and empty glass Coca-Cola bottles like swords. Angie only got a glimpse of them, but she could see that their cheeks were red and they were probably more than a little sunburned, but at least they were having fun, which was more than Angie could say for herself.

Angie glanced down at her watch. It was barely even noon. Her father and her older brother weren’t due back for at least another three or four hours and her mother had taken the younger kids to her sister’s house to see the new baby. They wouldn’t be back until after dinner.

Which meant that no one would be around to tell Angie not to sneak a cannoli.

Before she could think twice, Angie slapped her newspaper down on the counter, slid the display case open and grabbed a cannoli. It was partly melted and the filling was getting all over Angie’s hands, but it was sweet and somewhat cool and really, she was the one sweating through her dress alone in the bakery. She deserved this.

In fact, maybe she deserved a couple of pizzelles too.

Angie swatted away a few flies that had settled on the handle and started to open the case again, when suddenly the door to the bakery slammed open for the first time that morning.

“I need a place to hide. Do you think I could stay in here for a few minutes until they pass?”

Angie opened and closed her mouth a few times as she waited for her brain to catch up with the situation. Before she was even sure what she was doing, she found herself nodding and the girl jumped over the counter and ducked down next to Angie’s legs.

“Don’t tell them I’m here,” the girl hissed.

Angie didn’t even have time to ask who exactly she wasn’t supposed to tell when the door was flung open once again and the group of boys from before came racing into the shop, huffing and puffing and still brandishing their makeshift weapons.

“Did she come in here?” the apparent leader asked. He was the only one without a brick or a bottle, but it didn’t look like he really needed one. He was much bigger than the other three boys and his face was square and red and glistening with a thin sheen of sweat. When Angie didn’t answer fast enough for him, he stomped closer and slammed his hands on the counter. “Answer me! Did that English broad come in here?”

Angie could see the girl on the floor out of the corner of her eye and she couldn’t help but notice the way she had pulled her knees up to her chest. Her face was pressed against her skirt and her hands were balled into fists so tight that her knuckles had turned white.

“I ain’t seen any girls around here and I think I’d remember an English one,” Angie lied, smooth enough to almost convince herself that she was telling the truth. “You fellas are the first ones to come in all day.”

“She’s lying, Jimmy, I heard that girl run down this way,” one of the other boys said.

“Yeah, but she could have gone down one of the alleys or something,” added another. “It’s not like this is the only escape point on the street.”

“Shut up, Andy,” the other snapped, elbowing Andy hard in the ribs.

 

“How do I know Earl ain’t right?” the leader--Jimmy--asked. He leaned close enough that Angie could smell his foul breath and the odor of someone who probably hadn’t bathed since the start of the summer. She was really glad that there was a counter separating them.

“What do you need this girl so bad for anyway?” she asked, just barely managing to keep her voice steady.

“She knocked Earl flat in the dust for just being a decent fella and we gotta teach her some manners!” Andy interjected.

“Shut up Andy!” Jimmy snapped. He slammed his fist down on the counter hard enough to make Angie’s newspaper flutter. “If you see that broad around here anywhere, you let us know, y’hear?”

“You got it,” Angie says.

Jimmy narrowed his eyes at her and for a brief moment, it seemed like he could tell she was lying through her teeth, but after a long pause, he turned away and he and his cronies headed back for the door.

Just then, the girl under the counter wrapped her hand around Angie’s ankle. Angie bit her lip to keep from screaming and glanced down just in time to see the girl’s head snap forward as she sneezed into her skirt.

The boys whirled back around and Angie quickly cupped her hands over her mouth and nose.

“Excuse me,” she squeaked.

The boys all looked to their leader, but Jimmy just shot Angie one last glare before leading his gang back outside. Angie watched as one of them pointed towards an alley across the street and they all took off again, banging their bricks and bottles against the trash cans at the mouth of the alley as though to announce their presence before they ventured any further.

“Is it safe to come out just yet?” the girl asked. Sure enough, she had a British accent that Angie had hardly even noticed before and it took a moment for Angie’s brain to actually process the words.

She nodded and reached out a hand to help the girl off the ground.

“They’re gone. I know some of those boys from around here. Earl and Andy live in the apartment below us. Jimmy’s up from Boston to spend the summer with his aunt so I don’t know much about him, but the rest of them are mostly just bluster.”

“Thanks,” the girl said. She groaned a little as she stood up, pressing her hands against her lower back to stretch. “I must say, that floor’s not a comfortable place to sit, but I suppose I shouldn’t complain. You were very lovely to help me.”

“You got a name, English?” Angie asked.

“Oh. Right. Yes.” The girl glanced down at the floor and Angie could just catch a faint pink tint climbing in her cheeks. “I’m Peggy…er, Margaret, but I much prefer Peggy. Peggy Carter.”

“Pleased to meet you Peggy Carter,” Angie said, sticking out her hand and smiling warmly. “I’m Angie Martinelli. Short for Angela, but no one ‘cept my parents and calls me that. And sometimes my Nonna when she’s angry with me. Oh, and bless you by the way.”

“What?”

“You sneezed. When you were down there on the ground,” Angie explained.

“Yes. Sorry.” Peggy shook her head absently. “Bit dusty down there I suppose.”

It was Angie’s turn to blush. “That’d be my fault. I’m in charge of sweeping down there, but this heat wave’s been gumming the works for a week now. Ain’t nothing really getting done ‘round here until it passes.”

“I can imagine,” Peggy said. “I don’t think it ever gets this hot back home. I’ve no idea how you can stand it.”

“That’s the apple for you,” Angie said.

There was a brief pause and Angie took her first chance to actually get a good look at Peggy.

She was taller than Angie—almost a full head so—but unlike Angie who grew in uneven spurts that left her mother rushing to alter her dresses, Peggy looked graceful and well-proportioned like she was practically a woman already. She had dark hair, frizzy from the humidity, curling haphazardly around her cheeks, and eyes the color of whiskey that sparkled when they caught the light coming in through the dusty plate glass window.

Her most striking features, though, weren’t features in the traditional sense so much as they were injuries and fresh ones at that.

Her dress was torn around the hem and Angie could see that her knees were skinned bad enough to bleed. There was dirt all over her dress like she had fallen and she had a cut above her lip that would probably end up scarring if she didn’t get it patched up right. The thing that really drew Angie’s attention, though, was the spectacular reddish-purple bruise blooming around her left eye.

“That looks real bad,” Angie said. “My cousin Annalisa’s a nurse and she’s taught me a little bit over the years. Want me to take a look at you before you leave?”

“You’ve already let me hide behind your counter,” Peggy said. “I think I’ve more than overstayed my welcome and I should really be getting on.”

“Aw, come on, it’s no trouble and no one’s comin’ in here on a day like today anyway.”

“But what if someone comes by and sees?” Peggy asked.

“My father took my brother out to Brooklyn to visit some of his old buddies and they probably won’t be back until suppertime and my mama and the little kids are with my aunt, so we don’t have to worry about them either.”

Peggy still looked apprehensive and Angie hurried to add, “I can close up the shop and we can go upstairs so that even if those boys come back around here, they won’t see you.”

“Are you sure?” Peggy asked. “I wouldn’t want to be a burden.”

“Course not,” Angie said. “This is the only real excitin’ thing that’s happened all day and besides, I’m allowed to close up the shop to take a lunch break if I want to.”

“Well if you’re sure.”

Angie just rolled her eyes and lifted the hinged section of the counter so that she and Peggy could get outside. “After you, English,” she said, gesturing at the door. She flipped the sign in the window to ‘closed’ and locked the door behind them before heading over to the apartment door at the side of the building, Peggy following close behind.

* * *

“So what’d those boys want you so bad for anyway?” Angie asked.

She and Peggy were in the kitchen, Angie prying a few ice cubes out of a tray and wrapping them in a dish towel while she waited for the water on the stove to boil, and Peggy tracing her slender fingers over all the little nicks and imperfections in the worn surface of the dining table.

“Nothing too spectacular, I’m afraid,” Peggy said. “I was just out for a walk when they cornered me and called me some rather rude names that I think they meant as compliments. I told them I wasn’t interested in them, one of them offered to let himself and his friends teach me my place, and I knocked him in the dust.”

“Is that how you got all beat up?” Angie asked.

“Sort of. My brother has taught me a bit about holding my own, but I also know that sometimes there’s no shame in running from a fight you can’t win, so here I am.”

“Here you are,” Angie repeated absently. She leaned back against the counter and stared at the kettle on the stove as though she could make it boil faster by sheer willpower alone. She tapped her fingers on the counter and then suddenly remembered the ice cubes in the towel next to her.

“Here,” she said, grabbing the ends of the towel and twisting them so the ice wouldn’t fall out before handing it to Peggy. “For your eye. The water should be ready in just a second and I can clean your legs up. And your lip too.”

“Thanks,” Peggy murmured. She took the makeshift ice pack from Angie and pressed it to her blackened eye. She winced at the first contact, but after a moment, she leaned back against the high, stiff back of the chair and let her other eye slip shut, relaxing at the cool relief.

The water started to boil and Angie turned to shut the gas off. She pulled the kettle off the burner and poured the steaming water into a large ceramic bowl. Little tendrils of steam curled up from the surface, dancing and drifting towards the ceiling until they dissipated completely.

Angie grabbed a cloth—a torn piece of one of her old skirts that she had figured would be softer than any of her mother’s washcloths—and dipped it into the water.

“Lip or legs first?” Angie asked.

“Legs,” Peggy replied without opening her eyes. “I imagine that will probably sting a little more.”

“You’re probably right.”

Angie pulled out a second chair and set the bowl of water on the table. She opened the cabinet under the sink and grabbed her mother’s secret bottle of vodka that she saved for ‘special occasions’. She could top it off with water and even if her mother noticed—which Angie doubted she would anyway—she wouldn’t say a word to Angie’s father.

“You want anything to squeeze or bite down on or anything?” Angie asked.

“Your hand will be fine,” Peggy said. She paused suddenly and sat up straighter, opening her eye as a faint pink blush bloomed on her cheeks. “I-I mean if that’s alright with you.”

“Sure thing, English.” Angie held out her hand and Peggy grabbed it. Her hands were strong for sure, but they were soft and smooth and so unlike Angie’s which were dry, sometimes calloused and always with her fair share of scars.

“Don’t be afraid to really squeeze if you need to,” Angie said. “I won’t break. I promise.”

Peggy’s lips twitched up with a faint smile.

“Neither will I,” she replied.

Angie just nodded and dipped the damp cloth in the water once again to make sure it was still warm before pressing it to one of Peggy’s knees. Peggy sucked in a breath and squeezed Angie’s hand, but other than that, she didn’t move as Angie gently cleaned the dirt and gravel out of Peggy’s newly-acquired wounds, being careful not to press too hard or move too quickly.

“So,” she said in an effort to break the awkward silence growing between them. “You’ve got a brother?”

Peggy nodded.

“Me too,” Angie said. “Raphael. He’s only a year and a half older than me, but he likes to say two since I’m still fifteen for another week and he’s already seventeen.”

“Michael’s three years older than me,” Peggy said.

“Are you close?” Angie asked.

“Very.”

Angie just nodded and continued her work. Once both of Peggy’s knees were sufficiently dirt-free, she  grabbed the bottle of vodka and used her teeth to twist the cap off.

“This’ll sting, but it’ll keep it from getting infected.”

“Mmhm.”

Angie held the cloth underneath both of Peggy’s knees in turn as she poured a little bit of vodka onto the scrapes. Peggy winced and squeezed Angie’s hand a little bit tighter, almost hard enough to hurt.

“All done,” Angie said, setting the bottle back on the table and grabbing a fresh cloth to dry Peggy’s knees before she bandaged them. “I guess that means it’s time to look at your lip, huh?”

“I suppose so,” Peggy said. The ice in the dish towel she was holding against her eye was starting to melt in earnest and she set it down on the table with a sigh, her fingers immediately going back to tracing the divots in the tabletop. Angie tried not to notice how Peggy didn’t let go of her hand, but she didn’t any anything. Instead she just swallowed hard and licked her lips before turning her attention to Peggy’s.

“Will you let me stitch it?” Angie asked. “It might not scar as bad then.”

“That’s quite alright,” Peggy said. “I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“No askin’ required,” Angie said.

“I don’t scar easily,” Peggy countered.

Angie wasn’t quite sure what to say to that, so she just dipped the cloth in the hot water which was now a dull reddish-brown color, wrung it out and dabbed it against the cut on Peggy’s lip. It only took a moment and a couple of dabs with the vodka before Angie pronounced it clean and stood up to dump the bowl of water back in the sink.

“I really can’t thank you enough for this,” Peggy said.

Angie could hear the sound of the chair scraping against the floor and a moment later, Peggy was at her side, shaking the deformed remnants of the ice cubes out of the dish towel and into the sink. They both just stood there for a long moment, just staring at the drain.

Angie wasn’t entirely sure what she was supposed to say or do next, but the decision was taken out of her hand when she heard the door downstairs open and heavy footfalls coming up the stairs.

“That’s my dad,” Angie said. She shook her head and raced over to the kitchen table, snatching the bottle of vodka and tucking it back under the sink where it belonged. She grabbed the dirty cloths that she had used to clean Peggy up and stuffed them in the pocket of her dress as she whirled around to face Peggy. “You gotta leave right now.”

“What? I don’t—“

“Please,” Angie said. “He can’t catch us. I didn’t think he’d be home so early. I’m sorry, but you really need to go.”

“Where?” Peggy asked.

The footsteps were coming closer and Angie closed her eyes and balled her hands into fists as she wracked her brain for a solution.

“The fire escape!” she cried. She grabbed Peggy’s hand and practically dragged her into the main room where she threw open the window and gestured at the rickety metal balcony. Peggy just pulled herself through the window and stepped out onto the fire escape without protest before turning back to look at Angie.

“I’m in the city for the rest of the summer,” she said. “Do you think I can see you again? You know, to thank you for helping me so much?”

“You can count on it, English,” Angie replied.

Peggy smiled at her and she looked almost like she was going to say something else, but Angie heard the door open in the kitchen and she slammed the window shut.

“Angela?” her father called.

“Coming,” Angie replied. She took a few deep breaths to steady herself and glanced back at the fire escape.

Peggy was already gone.

Angie bit the insides of her cheeks to keep from smiling too big as she headed back into the kitchen to greet her father.

* * *

 

The heat wave finally broke nearly a week later, giving way to nothing but rain for the next three days.

It had been exactly ten days since Angie had last seen Peggy, not that she was keeping count. It was more like she was…okay, so maybe she was keeping count, but could anyone really fault her for it? Her summer so far had consisted mostly of minding the bakery or minding her youngest brother and sister. A fugitive girl from another country hiding behind the counter was arguably the most exciting thing that had happened to her in months.

She had spent most of the morning staring out the window, just watching the fat raindrops as they slipped and slid down the glass. A few customers had come in earlier that morning, but for the moment at least, the shop was empty. Angie could hear Alphonso whistling to himself in the kitchen and she started tapping her fingers absently against the counter in time to his tune and the heavy raindrops splatting on the pavement.

She wasn’t sure how long she was leaning there, until suddenly there was a sharp knock against the window. Angie jumped and whipped her head around to see a girl standing outside with her face practically pressed against the glass, one hand held over her eyes in a vain attempt to keep the rain off, the other hand raised to knock again, but she just waved when she saw Angie looking at her.

“What are you doing? Get in here!” Angie said.

Peggy just squinted in confusion and shook her head as she pointed at her ear. She mouthed something, but Angie couldn’t make it out and she just sighed as her hands fell to her hips.

“Raph, I’m headin’ out for just a minute,” Angie called. “I won’t be long.”

“Where you going?” Alphonso asked back.

“Just out with a…a friend.”

“Just make sure you’re back before the afternoon rush, alright?”

“Mmhm,” Angie said. She stepped out from behind the counter and grabbed her coat from the rack next to the door, slipping it on and holding it up over her head as she hurried out into the rain.

“Peggy? What are you doing out here?” Angie asked.

“I, em, I thought that maybe I would come back and see if you were free and I thought I might stop by to thank you properly for the other day.” Even in the rain, Angie could see that there was a faint blush creeping into Peggy’s cheeks. “But if you’re working, I can—“

“No, I’m free,” Angie said quickly. “My brother’s in there, so I can spare an hour.”

“Great,” Peggy said with a smile. When she didn’t say anything else, Angie let her coat fall as she crossed her arms over her chest.

“You didn’t have any real plans, did you?” she asked.

“Well I, em—“

Angie rolled her eyes and grabbed Peggy’s wrist. “C’mon then, English. I know just the place.”

* * *

 

Angie’s perfect place really maybe wasn’t as perfect as she had initially thought it would be, but then again, it was still far better than being stuck out in the rain.

She half-led, half-pulled Peggy down the sidewalks, dodging the raindrops and people that got in her way as she raced down streets and allies that she knew like the back of her hand.

“Where on earth are we going?” Peggy asked.

“Don’t worry, we’re almost there,” Angie replied.

They kept going, Angie running ahead and Peggy struggling to keep up. They were running past tenement buildings now until Angie ducked down an alley so suddenly that Peggy almost lost her balance. If Angie noticed, though, she didn’t seem to care. She just kept going, dodging the few children that were still out playing in the rain.

“Angie,” Peggy started.

“Hold on,” Angie called back.

She pulled Peggy around the back of the building on the left and suddenly they were in front of a tiny wooden shelter leaning against the back of the building that looked like it had been tacked on hurriedly without much thought. There was a dirty sheet, dripping with rainwater and flapping in the wind. Angie held it aside and waved Peggy inside.

“Angie, what are you--”

“Shake a leg, English,” Angie said. “It’s pourin’ out here.”

“I’m going, I’m going,” Peggy said.

She ducked under the sheet and Angie followed close behind, letting the sheet fall closed behind them.

The inside of the shed was small and a little bit cramped, but it was mostly dry save for one leaky shingle in the corner. The back wall was just the brick of the tenement building and there were old milk crates stacked up against it to form shelves.

“It’s a little tight,” Angie said. “It used to be a lot bigger when I was seven.”

“What is this place?” Peggy asked.

“My friend Violet used to live in this building and her father built this place for us so we could have a place to play away from her older brothers. We passed it on to her little sister when we were thirteen, but they moved last summer and this place has pretty much been abandoned ever since. We used to pool our money and hide treats in here and I wonder...” Angie trailed off as she knelt down on the cracked pavement and reached into one of the bottommost crates on the shelves. “Ah-ha!” she cried. “Jackpot!”

She sat back on her heels and held up a single Hershey’s chocolate bar, still wrapped up and completely dry.

“Thank you, Maria,” Angie muttered under her breath.

“Why did they move?” Peggy asked.

“Because we…” Angie stopped and shook her head. “It doesn’t matter, but all the kids in the buildings around here have their own little spots scattered around and this one was ours.”

“I can’t imagine living this close to so many other people,” Peggy said wistfully. She had settled down onto a spare milk crate and pulled her knees up close to her chest. She looked smaller and somehow less imposing, curled up in the tiny shed, her wet curls clinging to her cheeks and little drops falling off her skirt and splashing onto the ground.

“It ain’t so bad,” Angie said, grabbing a crate of her own and sitting down on it. “My family used to live here too actually. My father had to walk to the bakery every morning, but once all the money disappeared, most of the families moved out of the apartments above the bakery and living there was less expensive than staying here.”

“Oh,” Peggy said. She looked down and brushed a stray lock of hair out of her face.

Angie started picking absently at the corner of the Hershey’s bar where the wrapper was starting to peel. She pinched the paper and tore it back, unwrapping the bar and handing half of it to Peggy.

“Sorry if it’s a little stale or anything. I have no idea how long it’s been out here.”

“Thanks,” Peggy said. She accepted her half with a smile and broke a small piece off to pop in her mouth. Just watching her almost made Angie want to take her time with her own chocolate. Almost. She snapped her piece in half and shoved both of them in her mouth. It wasn’t half as stale as she had thought, but it was the first chocolate she had had in a long time, so she imagined it would probably have tasted incredible either way.

Peggy watched her and for a moment, Angie felt her cheeks grow hot, but then Peggy just grinned and slipped the rest of her own chocolate into her mouth. Her cheeks bulged out and her lips didn’t quite close all the way and Angie couldn’t help but giggle.

“What are you laughing at?” Peggy demanded once she could speak again.

“You,” Angie replied. “You’re funny.”

“Oh really,” Peggy said, raising one elegant eyebrow in a way that made Angie’s mouth go dry.

Angie quickly shook her head.

“You know what? This was a bad idea. I sh-should get back to the shop,” Angie stammered. She stood up so fast that she hit her head on the roof of the shed and groaned.

“Oh! Are you alright? Let me see,” Peggy said. She stood up just as Angie stepped forward and their foreheads collided, sending them both back with a duet of gasps. “I’m so sorry!” Peggy cried. “I didn’t mean to do that, I—“

“No, it was my fault, it’s fine,” Angie said. She looked up, her hand still pressed to her forehead in a vain attempt to try to ward off the headache that was already brewing there. Peggy was staring back at her, eyes wide and cheeks flushed. Angie could still see a hint of a bruise around Peggy’s eye and sure enough, the cut on her lip was scarring, a thin white line against her pale face.

Angie reached out slowly and touched the scar with the pad of her thumb.

“You were right,” Peggy said. “It’s scarring.”

“It’s not so bad,” Angie replied. “A little powder to cover it up and no one’ll ever even notice it.” She swallowed hard and quickly pulled her hand away from Peggy’s face. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have--”

“No, no I don’t mind,” Peggy said quickly.

She was so close that Angie could smell the chocolate on her breath, could see the faint smudges of the melted candy that had settled in the fine lines of her lips. Angie swallowed hard and looked away.

“I think I should probably get back to the shop,” she murmured.

“So soon?” Peggy asked.

Angie didn’t know what to say, so she just didn’t say anything at all. She bit her lip sucked a few last bits of chocolate off her teeth. When she looked up again, Peggy was just studying her carefully in the dim light.

“A-Angie,” Peggy started. Angie watched her swallow hard and she ran a hand through her wet hair before looking up and meeting Angie’s eyes again. Her cheeks were so red that it practically looked like she was wearing rouge. She was beautiful in a completely different way than Violet or Angie herself for that matter had ever been, but Angie liked it.

She liked it a little too much for comfort.

“I gotta split,” Angie said. She was still holding the ripped Hershey’s wrapper and she crumpled it up in her fist as she ducked her head and pushed the sheet aside so she could get back outside. She heard Peggy bump her head again as she scrambled out after Angie.

“Wait, Angie, I--”

“Maybe I’ll see you around, English,” Angie called without looking back. There were a few small boys splashing in the puddles that had gathered in the potholes, but they jumped out of the way when they saw Angie coming.

By the time Angie reached the cracked sidewalk, Peggy was running after her, calling her name, but Angie didn’t stop. She couldn’t tell whether the tears or the raindrops were blurring her vision more. She picked up her pace a little bit and she didn’t look back until she reached the bakery door. At some point, she had lost both Peggy and the Hershey’s wrapper and she swiped her sleeve across her cheeks to try to clean herself up.

She briefly debated going back into the bakery, but on second thought, maybe that wasn’t the best idea. Instead she opened the apartment door and started the trek upstairs.

One of the little girls from the apartment below Angie’s was sitting on the landing, humming to herself and playing with a dirty ragdoll. She smiled when Angie passed by, but Angie didn’t pay her attention. When she got to her own door, she sniffled and swiped at her cheeks again before going in.

“Angela, is that you?” her mother asked without looking up from the dishes she was washing.

“Yeah, Ma.”

“What are you doing up here? Aren’t you supposed to be downstairs?”

“I just have to get something,” Angie said. She raced back to the bedroom she shared with her siblings and slammed the door shut before her mother could ask anything else or actually get a good look at her face.

She practically collapsed on her mattress, her head in her hands and tears burning at the backs of her eyes.

The kiss off was the hardest part, Angie knew that, but that didn’t make it any easier in the moment. She fell back against the lumpy pillows and hugged her knees to her chest as she let a few tears leak out. Her vision was blurry, but every time she tried to close her eyes, all she saw was Peggy’s face, hurt and confused when Angie had announced she was leaving and that was almost worse than the pain in her heart.

* * *

 

“Angela, is something the matter? You’ve barely touched your food.”

Angie looked up at the sound of her mother’s voice and realized for the first time that she was just absently pushing her dinner around on her plate instead of eating.

“No. Sorry. I’m fine.” She shoveled a few bites of rice into her mouth as if to prove her point, but she could tell no one was buying it.

“Alphonso says you left early today?” her mother asked without looking at Angie.

“Ma, I already told you it wasn’t busy and I told her she could go,” Alphonso interjected.

Their mother ignored him and took a sip of her water before fixing Angie with a stern glare. “What were you doing while you were out?”

“I just went to see a friend,” Angie admitted quietly. She started twirling her fork in her rice again as heat started creeping into her cheeks.

“Do we know this friend?” her mother asked.

“No,” Angie murmured.

“What was that?”

“Ma, I--”

Their mother cut Alphonso off with a single look and then turned her attention back to Angie. “Angela, look at me,” she commanded. Angie reluctantly lifted her head. “Good. Now what was that you said?”

“I said you don’t know her,” Angie said. “She’s just in town for the summer is all.”

“Ooo, Angie’s dizzy with a dame,” her ten-year-old brother Luca teased around a mouthful of food.

“Luca!” their mother snapped. She rapped her fork sharply against his knuckles and he winced. “You don’t say such things. Apologize to your sister.”

“Sorry, Angie,” Luca muttered.

“S’fine,” Angie mumbled. “And it’s not like that, Ma, I promise.”

Her mother just sighed. “Your father will want to know.”

“Ma,” Alphonso warned.

“It’s fine,” Angie said. She could feel the color draining from her face, but she knew better than to try to say anything else. She shoveled the last few forkfuls of her dinner into her mouth and pushed her chair back from the table. “May I be excused?”

Her mother nodded shortly.

“Thank you,” Angie murmured. She turned and headed back into the bedroom before anyone could say anything else.

She flopped down on the mattress and stared out the window as the raindrops made little trails through the grime on the panes. She heard someone else coming and quickly pulled the quilt up over her head so that she could at least pretend she was asleep.

The door creaked open and Angie heard the springs of the boys’ mattress creaking as someone sat down on it.

“You know, Ang, I’ve got no idea if you know what you’re doing, but I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you wantin’ to be happy,” Alphonso said.

Angie didn’t roll over, didn’t even acknowledge that he was there. He didn’t say anything else either and a moment later, Luca and the six-year-old twins, Cecilia and Antonia came in. The girls climbed into bed next to Angie who just squeezed her eyes shut and willed herself not to cry.

* * *

 

The day Angie turned sixteen, the rain had finally passed and the sky was clear and bright, the sun shining down and bathing the city in warmth.

Her father had given Angie the day off and her mother had surprised her with baked apples for breakfast. If anything had been shared about the dinner conversation from the other night, at least nothing else had changed. Neither of her parents had brought it up and she hadn’t seen Peggy at all the past three days.

As long as she didn’t think about Peggy for too long, it was almost like nothing had happened at all.

She spent most of the morning wandering aimlessly, kicking at broken bits of pavement as the sun shone down around her.

“Angie!”

Angie whirled around before she had the chance to place the voice and when she did, she saw Peggy racing towards her. She started to turn away, but before she could, Peggy was running toward her and as she got closer, Angie could see that she looked nervous and she was holding one hand tightly behind her back.

“Peggy? What are you doing out here?” Angie asked.

Peggy was a little bit out of breath and her cheeks were flushed as she skidded to a stop. “I’ve been looking for you all morning,” she said. “I went to the bakery, but I met your brother and he told me that you had the day off and he told me you liked to come down around here and I wanted to wish you a happy birthday.”

“You remembered my birthday?” Angie asked, knitting her brows in confusion.

“Of course,” Peggy said. “Oh! And I got you this.” She moved her hand from behind her back and held out a small package wrapped in newspaper. “It’s not much, but I—“

“Oh please, you didn’t have to get me anything,” Angie said. She picked at a loose corner of the paper and carefully tore it off to reveal a single Hershey’s bar. “You got me chocolate?”

“Yes,” Peggy said. “I wasn’t really sure what you’d like, so I thought I’d go with something that I…well, I knew you liked it.”

“Thanks, English,” Angie said. Her lips twitched, but then she remembered that there was a reason she had been deliberately not thinking about Peggy for the past few days. “I should make tracks, though,” she said. “I’ll see ya around.” She started to turn away, but Peggy stopped her by stepping in front of her.

“Wait, Angie, please talk to me,” she said. “I’ve spend the past three days going over everything that happened and I don’t understand what went wrong. If you don’t want to be my friend, that’s fine, but at least tell me for sure.”

“No, that’s not what it is,” Angie said quickly. “I just…” She stopped and looked down at the cracked sidewalk like the right words to day would suddenly appear there. She looked around to make sure that no one was around and grabbed Peggy’s wrist to lead her into a nearby alley to make sure that no one could overhear.

“What are you doing?” Peggy asked.

Angie took a deep breath and swallowed hard. “I think I’m about to tell you the truth but I haven’t quite made up my mind yet.” She let go of Peggy’s wrist and looked down at the chocolate bar in her hands.

“Angie, if you don’t want to tell me, you don’t have to.”

“No, no, I can tell you,” Angie said. “But I don’t think I can look at you and if you want to leave after I tell you, that’s fine.” She took a deep breath and started picking at the corner of the chocolate bar wrapper.

“Violet and I weren’t just friends. We were, um…we were a little more than friends and last summer, we were in her apartment and we thought that no one was around, but her mother walked in on us kissing and she told Violet’s father and my parents and they split a few days later. I don’t know where they want and I didn’t even get to say goodbye to her. My parents hardly let me outside for the rest of the summer and if the other day in the shed, I…”

Angie trailed off and blinked back the tears that were burning at the backs of her eyes and shook her hair out of her face as she glanced up, half expecting to be met with just a brick wall, but Peggy was still standing there. Her cinnamon-brown eyes were wide and she looked like she was on the verge of tears herself.

“Angie, I didn’t know,” she breathed. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Angie said. “Not like it was your fault. I’m the one that’s the big family secret.”

“I-I don’t know what to say.”

“Well you’re not running from me, so that’s something,” Angie joked.

“Could I kiss you?” Peggy asked.

“It’s okay, I under—“ Angie suddenly fell silent. “Wait. Did you just—“

“I asked to kiss you,” Peggy said. “If I’m overstepping, I can—“

“No, English, I…I think I’d like that a lot,” Angie said.

Peggy started to lean closer, but Angie stopped her with a hand to her chest. “Wait,” she whispered. “Not out here where anyone could walk by and see us. We need to go somewhere more private.”

Peggy smiled, a twinkle in her eye and a sly smile playing at her lips. “I think I know just the place.”

She took Angie’s hand in her own and Angie barely had any time to react before Peggy started half-leading, half-pulling Angie back down the sidewalk. The going was slower than when Angie had brought Peggy to the shed which Angie supposed was more evidence than any that Peggy was unfamiliar with the city.

“Where are you taking me?” Angie asked.

“Somewhere perfect,” Peggy replied.

* * *

 

As it turned out, Peggy’s aunt lived on the Upper East Side in an apartment at least twice the size of Angie’s family’s home. The whole place was light and airy and clean and so unlike anything that Angie had ever seen before. There was a real air conditioner in the window and electric lights in every room.

“Are you sure this is safe?” Angie asked.

“My aunt’s out shopping and she shouldn’t be back for at least a few hours, but that doesn’t matter because…” Peggy trailed off as she led Angie down a small hallway and opened a door at the end. She stepped out of the way and let Angie look inside.

“You have your own room?!” Angie exclaimed.

Peggy blushed. “It’s not really my room, it’s just the guest room, but it’s mine for now and there’s a lock on the door.”

Angie smiled. “Then it’s perfect, isn’t it? Do you mind if I…” she trailed off and gestured into the room.

“Go ahead,” Peggy replied.

Angie’s grin grew and she stepped into the bedroom and looked around. It was big and light much like the rest of the apartment. A massive four-poster bed covered in a royal blue duvet that was probably had more threads than all of Angie’s clothes combined took up most of the space and there were plush rugs covering much of the hardwood floor.

“I’ve never even seen a bedroom this nice before,” Angie breathed.

“It is something, isn’t it?” Peggy mused, stepping into the room and closing the door behind her. “Is it alright if I lock this?” she asked. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable at all.”

“That’s fine,” Angie said. “She made her way over the bookshelves that lined the wall next to the door and ran her finger along the spines of books she had never even heard of. She heard the lock click and Peggy walked back over to the bed, dragging her finger across the duvet.

Angie turned and started to follow, but her foot caught on the rug and she gasped as she tripped, falling right into Peggy and sending them both flopping onto the bed, Peggy on her back and Angie’s hands pressed against Peggy’s breasts.

They were bigger and rounder than Angie’s own, soft in her palms and Angie would almost enjoy it if she hadn’t been preoccupied with the fact that she should not have been touching Peggy’s breasts.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to do that!” Angie exclaimed. She started to move, but then Peggy just laughed, clear and loud like a bell and it made Angie’s heart flutter in her chest.

“It’s alright,” Peggy said. She lifted her head just a little bit as Angie moved one hand and then the other onto the duvet so that she was holding herself up over Peggy.

For a fraction of a second, they were suspended there, Angie’s hair brushing against Peggy’s cheeks and both of them just staring into each other’s eyes, but then one of them—neither could be entirely sure which one—closed the space between them and they were kissing.

It was soft and sweet and at first, all Angie could think of was how it had started out the same way with Violet.

Except Peggy wasn’t Violet.

Peggy was softer than Violet in so many places and while Violet’s lips had tasted like pilfered soda pop and penny candy, Peggy tasted like lipstick and tea and something else a little bit spicy that Angie couldn’t place. Peggy’s tongue prodded gently against Angie’s lips and Angie parted them, breathing out a small laugh as she did.

“What’s so funny?” Peggy murmured against her lips.

“Nothing,” Angie replied. “I just never thought that kissing could be this nice.”

Peggy let out a soft chuckle of her own and rolled onto her side, her hands moving to Angie’s hips and pulling her down smoothly with her so that they were both laying next to each other on the bed, so close to each other that Angie could feel Peggy’s warm breath tickling her cheeks.

Angie reached out and pressed the pad of her thumb against the faint white line of the scar above Peggy’s lips. The black eye and the scrapes on her knees may have healed perfectly, but the tiny trace of the cut was like a secret reminder of that first afternoon in the bakery.

“Hey, English?” Angie asked.

“Hmm?”

“This is probably pretty off the cob, but I think I’m a little bit in love with you.”

“I think I’m a little bit in love with you too,” Peggy said.

There was a brief pause and Peggy lifted her hand to brush an errant curl out of Angie’s face.

“Happy birthday, Angie,” she breathed before leaning in for another kiss.

* * *

 

Angie was pretty sure that the last few days of July and the first two weeks of August were the best time of her life. Almost every spare moment she had, she spent with Peggy, showing her around the parts of the city that were a little more…colorful than the Upper East Side that Peggy was used to.

They visited all of Angie’s old haunts, the alleys and sidewalks where she had grown up and Peggy introduced Angie to a life of luxury that Angie had never known. She let Angie try on dresses, taught her to style her hair and put on rouge and lipstick, and even showed her how to draw seams on her legs to make it look like she was wearing stockings.

“See?” Peggy asked, straightening up and capping her black eyeliner pencil. She extended the back of her leg and let Angie examine the perfectly straight line on her calf. “What do you think?”

“About your legs?” Angie joked.

Peggy frowned, but Angie could tell by the tone of her voice that she trying not to laugh. “No, about my seams.”

“Perfect,” Angie said.

“My legs?” Peggy asked.

“No, your seams,” Angie replied.

Peggy blushed a little bit and Angie smiled. For all her poise and confidence, Peggy blushed easily and it was quickly becoming one of Angie’s favorite things about her.

“Here,” Peggy said. “Do you want to try?”

“Sure,” Angie said. She took the pencil from Peggy and leaned down, trying hard not to look like she had no idea how she was supposed to position herself to do this. She wobbled a little bit and had to hold on to Peggy’s shoulder as she slowly dragged the tip of the pencil up the back of her leg.

“Did I do it?” she asked as she straightened up and craned her neck to examine her line. It was crooked and uneven, heavier at the bottom and much thinner and broken as it got closer to the crease of her knee.

“It was a great first try,” Peggy said. “Here, let me fix it.” She took the pencil back from Angie and knelt down on the rug behind her. Angie giggled and tried not to squirm as the tip of the pencil tickled against her skin. She could feel Peggy’s hand gently holding her calf in place and once she was done, she moved onto the other leg. “Alright, now take a look.”

Angie turned and examined the pin-straight lines on the back of her legs.

“How are you so good at this?” Angie asked.

“Lots and lots of practice,” Peggy replied as she capped the pencil and set it back on her bureau. “And it’s much easier when it’s someone else’s leg.”

“Thanks,” Angie said. She draped her arm casually around Peggy’s waist and leaned in for a soft, chaste kiss that smudged the light pink lipstick that Peggy was wearing, not enough to add much color to her lips, but enough to smudge on the skin around them so that Peggy had to remember to clean herself up again after every kiss.

Peggy smiled against Angie’s lips. “I’m going to miss this, you know,” she whispered.

“What are you talking about?” Angie asked, pulling back just a fraction of an inch.

Peggy paused and frowned. “I’m leaving to go back home in a little over a week,” she said. “I have to be back before the start of term.”

“Oh,” Angie said. “Right.” She stepped back and grabbed the bed post, twirling around it once and flopping onto Peggy’s bed.

“I’m sorry,” Peggy said. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I just—“

“No, you’re right,” Angie interjected. “I just kind of forgot that you won’t be here forever. That you’re leaving and everything’s just going to go back to normal.”

Peggy sighed and sat down on the bed next to Angie, brushing her fingers through the caramel curls splayed out like a halo around Angie’s head. “I’ll write you though. And I might be coming back next summer too. Just because I’m going back home doesn’t mean that I don’t still love you and it doesn’t have to be the end of all of this.”

“Yeah,” Angie said, forcing herself to smile just a little bit. She closed her eyes and just focused on the feeling of Peggy’s fingers running through her hair over and over.

“Besides,” Peggy said after a moment. “I don’t think I’ve ever had more fun in my whole life than I’ve had with you these past few weeks. I never thought I’d grow this attached to New York City before.”

“Yeah, well maybe one day I could come visit you in England and you can show me around your home,” Angie said, opening one eye and fixing it on Peggy.

Peggy chuckled. “That would be absolutely lovely,” she said. “I could show you all around London, but I’m afraid most of it probably wouldn’t be very exciting. I only really know part of the city.”

Angie reached out and took Peggy’s hand, lacing their fingers together and squeezing just the slightest bit. “Then we can explore it together, can’t we?”

“That we could,” Peggy said with a soft smile. “That we could.”

* * *

 

The morning that Peggy was due to leave for England dawned hot and sticky. The late summer sun shone down on the city and the air was practically rippling with the heat. Angie had managed to convince her father that no one was coming into the bakery that day and that it wasn’t worth it to have both her and Alphonso working and shockingly enough, it had worked.

She met Peggy back in the shed behind the old tenement building. Peggy only had an hour or so before she had to go back to her aunt’s apartment to finish packing and go down to the pier to catch her ship and Angie was a little bit worried about being missed. Her parents hadn’t said anything, but she could tell that they had their suspicions that something was going on.

“I’m going to miss you so much,” Peggy whispered between kisses.

“I’m gonna miss you too, English,” Angie replied. “You gotta promise to write me. I want to hear all about England and that fancy boarding school and everything.”

“Only if you promise to write me back,” Peggy said.

“You know I will,” Angie said. “I’ll tell you everything that goes on around here and everything that you’re missing out on.”

There was a pause, broke only by Peggy’s soft sigh as she combed her fingers through Angie’s hair.

“I love you,” Peggy said. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” Angie said. “Promise you’ll come back to me?”

“I promise,” Peggy breathed. Suddenly, she pulled back. “Hold on, I have a present for you.”

“Oh, Pegs, you didn’t have to get me anything,” Angie said.

“I know, but I wanted to,” Peggy said. She reached into a small pocket hidden in her skirt and pulled out a small package wrapped in a wrinkly square of brown paper. “Consider this an extra belated birthday present.”

Angie tore away the paper to reveal a small gold tube of lipstick and a brand new black eyeliner pencil.

“So you can practice drawing on seams,” Peggy said with a little half-smile. “Do you like it?”

“Are you kiddin’ me? I love it!” Angie exclaimed, throwing her arms around Peggy’s neck and pulling her close in the tiny space. “Thank you so much,” she whispered in Peggy’s ear.

“You’re welcome,” Peggy said with a smile.

“I don’t have anything to give you, though,” Angie said.

“You’ve already given me the best summer I could possibly dream of,” Peggy replied. “And that’s more than enough.”

“That’s so off the cob,” Angie giggled, but she could feel a little bit of heat creeping its way into her cheeks.

“It is, but it’s true,” Peggy insisted. “And I know I have to leave and I do miss my home, but I can’t wait to come back here.”

“Mmhm,” Angie hummed. She closed the gap between them and pressed her lips gently against Peggy’s thin scar before moving to Peggy’s lips. “But let’s not think about that right now.”

“Okay, then what do you propose we think about?” Peggy asked.

“This,” Angie said. She pressed her mouth against Peggy, lazy enough to smudge her lipstick and taste the lingering flavor of Peggy’s favorite tea from earlier that morning.

They only had a few more minutes before they’d have to part ways, but for the moment, there was nothing else in the world that mattered more than the taste of Peggy’s lips, the scent of her perfume that was a little spicy and a little sweet, the feeling of her hair as Angie ran her fingers through it.

For one long, hot, humid moment in time, everything was perfect.

* * *

 

The first letter came about a week and a half after Peggy left for England. It was addressed to Angie in elegant, curly handwriting that Angie realized she should have expected from Peggy.

The letter itself was careful, deliberately vague and friendly just in case anyone else had intercepted it. It described how excited Peggy’s brother had been when he learned about his sister’s new scar and how much more temperate the weather was in England.

Angie scribbled out a reply and ran down to the post office with it that very afternoon with the promise that she’d make sure to get to the mail before her parents, so Peggy could say whatever she wanted to.

The next letter was signed with a pink lipstick print next to Peggy’s name.

As the year dragged on, Angie found herself looking forward to Peggy’s letters more than anything else. By Christmas, Peggy was already talking about plans to come back to New York the following summer, but by the time that summer rolled around, it had all fallen through.

By July, the letters had grown less and less frequent and even though they were no less heartfelt, Angie could tell that there was something else that Peggy wasn’t mentioning.

By August, the letters had stopped coming entirely.

A little over a month later, Angie found out from the newspaper that the Germans had bombed London.

Europe was going to war again and when Angie didn’t hear anything else from Peggy, she felt a weight settle deep in her gut. She cut out the newspaper article and stuck into the box hidden under a loose floorboard in the bedroom where she had been keeping all of Peggy’s letters along with the lipstick and eyeliner pencil that she had never actually gotten up the courage to use.

She tried writing to Peggy a few more times, but there was never any response. She didn’t even know if her letters were getting through.

Angie used to think that she had known heartbreak when Violet had moved away, but that was nothing compared to this. Every night when she closed her eyes, she saw Peggy lying next to her that first afternoon on the bed when Angie had first told her she loved her.

The thing about Peggy that made her so different from Violet, Angie decided, was that Violet had been a game. They had known full well that nothing could ever come of it and there was a part of them both that had probably known that they were going to get caught. Sure it had hurt, but it was inevitable in the same way that growing up was inevitable.

With Peggy, though, Angie had forgotten all of that.

When Angie was with Peggy, touching Peggy, kissing Peggy, it always seemed like for that moment, they were the only two people in the world. It felt like nothing could ever tear them apart and for a brief instant, Angie had let herself dream that maybe she and Peggy could have a life together. Maybe they could find a small apartment in some secluded corner of the city where they didn’t have to lock the bedroom door every time they wanted to be alone. Maybe Angie could kiss along Peggy’s fake seams and run her fingers through her hair and tell her that she loved her without having to whisper for fear of being overheard.

Maybe she and Peggy could have been happy.

But it seemed as though the world had no tolerance for women like Angie being happy and the worst part was that she couldn’t tell anyone. Most people who had their heart broken could tell their friends, their family, their neighbors, hell, maybe even the postman or the milkman or the people that sold the tickets at the theater, but Angie couldn’t tell a soul.  

All she could do was twist up the tube of pink lipstick, still sharp from never being used, the weight feeling almost like a ghost in Angie’s palm. She never wore it, though, nor did she ever actually practice drawing her own seams. She couldn’t really see the point when Peggy would never be around to see them again.

She wrote one final letter at the end of September. She had no idea whether it would even make it to London, but it felt like the only thing left that she could do. It was only three words long:  _I miss you._

The ink was smudged in a few places from tears that had stubbornly refused to stay in her eyes and she had finally used the lipstick solely to add a tiny kiss at the bottom before scrubbing it from her lips with her sleeve.

It was nearly a year before she could eat a Hershey’s bar again without thinking of Peggy.

 


End file.
